The Way Things Should Be
by xoxoemily
Summary: Puck/Santana. A story that loosely defines their relationship in their thirties. Individual chapters can be read as oneshots.
1. Chapter 1

It's hard to tell which one of them looks more emotionless. In this dimly lit room, they have been sitting across from each other for two hours, staring each other down with the intensity of a duel. Santana refuses to give him the look of sadness that is threatening to burst from behind her wavering facade. She promised herself she won't cry about this, not in front of him at least. The second she cries about her divorce will be the second the tears get _beaten_ out of her, because they aren't going to come voluntarily.

Puck, on the other hand, has been mentally telling himself that this is the right thing to do over and over again for the better part of the two hours. He's been avoiding Santana's gaze because he knows that if he looks up to her sad, depressed face one more time, he might lose it. Santana only thinks she looks tough. Puck can see right past the exterior. He's loved this girl this high school; he knows her like he knows the back of his hand.

And now they're throwing away everything that they've been through with a flourish of a signature on some piece of paper? Really? That's the joy of raising two kids, ten Hannumas celebrations, and a lifetime's worth of memories thrown out the window right there and then. Puck considers telling the lawyer to stop it, this isnt what they want. Honestly, neither of them want this. But it's for the best, they say. They're doing the right thing.

"I love you. Don't do this. I'll never forgive myself," he wants to scream. He's wanted to scream it ten million times, ever since Santana came home one day with divorce papers. He's only agreeing to divorce because he knows it's what she wants right now. And he'd do anything for his girl. They're in their thirties now with two kids, but she's still his girl. She'll always be.

"I'll miss you so much. I really don't want to do this, but I have to. I love you," she wants to scream. But she won't back down. She _refuses _defeat. She has to protect her already shattered heart, even if it costs her the love of her life, the father of her children. She tries to remember the last time she said no to him and she can't. Well this is it. This is her, saying no. No more.

He should of shown her how much he loved her two years ago, when everything started to go downhill. He should have stopped working so hard and spent more time at home, so she wouldn't be exhausted all the time from taking care of Kelsey and Noah Jr. He should have remembered that Santana had a frail ego, a mind that would go to crazy places if she wasn't constantly nurtured and loved. Every time he went out late to have a beer to unwind? He should have known she'd be at home in a pitch-dark room crying her eyes out, wondering what the hell was wrong with her. Was she not good enough for him to stay at home for or something? No! It was the total opposite. He couldn't face her at home, not the woman he loved but had thrown under the bus everytime he went out and she stayed in. He was too ashamed. Too cowardly to let her know that he appreciated her for every little thing she did. But it's not all his fault. She shouldn't have shut him out. She should have let him know that she was feeling lonely and neglected, that she was just so tired all the time. Tired of everything. Too tired to fight anymore.

Puck's never been good with emotions, or honesty, or commitment, and neither has Santana. In fact, all their friends were surprised when they got married. More surprised when they had kids. And when they finally accepted that Puck and Santana might be the real deal, they go and get divorced. Go figure.

What the fuck are they doing here? Why is the lawyer passing papers down the table? Papers that say that in an hour, they'll no longer be husband and wife. Papers that say that he'll only be able to see his kids once a week, unless Santana is feeling particularly generous that week. It's not the kids he's worried about. Puck knows that Santana would never withhold the kids from him just to get back at him for all the times he's neglected his husbandly duties. Santana's a good mom. No, she's a great mom. He feels like the luckiest son of a bitch in the world for even having kids with her.

"If you could just sign here, Mr. Puckerman, your end of the divorce will be finished," the lawyer says. Puck just stares at the dotted line that follows a giant block of text that defines the end of their relationship. When did love get so complicated? Why can't be it: I love you and you love me, but I suck as a husband and you won't tell me what you need, so we're doing this because we're cowards? He looks up at Santana, with a glance that suggests the ball's in her court. If it were up to him, he'd call off the whole thing in a heartbeat. Does she really want him to do this?

"Please, just do it. For me," Santana manages to get out, but at the expense of a few tears. The sadness in her voice kills him. He's never heard her so vulnerable. So damaged. And all because of him. He decides this is God's punishment for doing what he did to her. He deserves this divorce, so he scribbles his name on the line that's been taunting him. He misses her already.

"And Mrs. Puckerman? If you sign here, I can stop calling you that in a few minutes," the lawyer continues. Mrs. Puckerman. She's always loved the sound of that. Now it'll be gone, just like him. She knows she might be screwing up the last chance they have with each other, but she has to do this. After all the battles they've ever fought, this one might just be the straw that breaks the camel's back. She looks up at him. He's just staring at her with a hollow look, a look that says this is what _you _wanted, remember? She slowly signs her name on the lime, stalling for time. She relishes her last moments as his wife. She regrets it already, but she'll deal with it, like she's dealt with every little negative thing that's ever happened to her.

"All right then. You are officially no longer husband and wife," the lawyer proclaims. It's done and it can't be helped. How can it be over so soon? How can two hours of your life end a lifetime of love?

"Here," she says as she twists off her beloved wedding ring and reaches over to place it in his palm. It doesn't feel right having it, no matter how much she wants to keep it as reminder of him.

"No, I bought it for you. Keep it," he chokes.

"Okay," she simply replies. She reaches up to give him a hug. "I love you so much," she half-whispers, half-cries in his ear. It's the truth.

"I love you too San, always," he replies with equally as much emotion. Their lawyer doesn't know what to think of this. This is the first time in all his years of divorce proceedings that he's ever seen a couple so committed to each other. What are they doing? Can't they see they're just torturing themselves? It's obvious they love each other, and that's what marriage is about, right? Whatever, it's not his place to say anything.

They part ways, trying to convince themselves they did the right thing. Well, better not think about it too much. Santana has to get home and do the laundry before the kids come home, and Puck has to go out to his car and cry for the first time since he was a kid.

It's for the best, so why does it feel so wrong?

**Review PLEASEEEEEEEEE**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Update!: This is the old chapter, bumped up to the second chapter because theres a new first chapter. Please check it out and REVIEW!**_

**Authors Note: So it's been a while since I've written anything, but since there is a serious lack of Puck/Santana fiction out there, I decided to write this one shot. Not totally happy with it, but feedback would be great, since I have another idea for a story...**

Seven-year-old Kelsey Puckerman loves going to her daddy's house because her daddy always helps her bake the bestest chocolate chip cookies ever. Her brother Noah Jr. loves going to their daddy's house because he has every piece of sporting equipment a five-year-old boy could ever want. But their mother Santana Lopez? She dreads going to her ex-husband's house because it brings back a plethora of bitter memories she both regrets and wishes she could relive.

"Wait here guys. Mommy's going to check if everything is okay at Daddy's for you guys to play at. I'll be back in a few minutes, so don't run off," Santana says to her kids as she parks her Toyota in the driveway of her ex-husband's house. It's not that she doesn't trust her ex-husband. It's just that the last time she didn't check beforehand, they walked in to a television screen of pay-per-view porn with a microwave dinner burning in the kitchen. But to be fair, he is a great father other than that one incident. A better father than he was a husband, that's for sure.

"How come you have to check, Mommy?" Noah Jr. asks innocently.

"Because, Noah. What if daddy's like tying up some bad guy he caught in there? If we go in, daddy might get distracted by my new sparkly shoes and the bad guy could escape!" Kelsey answers in all seriousness. Why does her little brother insist on asking such stupid, irrelevant questions? If Kelsey were to ask a question it would be, how come mommy and daddy don't get along with each other anymore? Or despite all her parents' insistences that they still love each other, how come they don't live together anymore? And what does loving someone but "not in that way anymore" even mean?

"Don't be silly, Kelsey. Daddy could never tie anyone up; he's too nice!" Noah Jr. retorts. Santana just chuckles and walks up to the door. If they only knew what kind of kinky stuff she and Puck were into in high school.

Santana smoothes the legs of her skin-tight jeans as she brushes an invisible piece of lint off her pink ruffle top with her other hand. It's nice to know she's still got it, considering most 32-year-olds can't pull off the hot mom look. She rings the doorbell, wishing for the best. And by the best, she means a get-in, get-out situation with minimal interaction between the two ex-lovers.

"Santana!" Noah "Puck" Puckerman exclaims in surprise as he swings open his door, "What are you doing here? I thought you weren't bringing them over until 1."

"Didn't you get my message? I said noon," Santana replies slightly annoyed; half peering at the way Puck's wifebeater shows off his tan biceps. Puck considers smirking, based on the way she's looking at him. Then again, he can't deny that he didn't notice how hot her ass looked in those skinny jeans when he first opened the door.

"Noah?" a mystery female voice yells from across the house. Santana raises an eyebrow. A trashy blonde bombshell soon walks into view, wearing nothing but a neon pink lace bra with matching panties that have a hole in the hip. What the fuck? Santana shoots Puck a look of disgust- a look that's part you-moved-on-already? and part you-can-do-better. Even in her skankiest days (and trust her, there were a lot of those), Santana at least had the class to wear some nice lingerie around the house. It is almost insulting to watch her ex-husband go from someone like her to someone like that. At the same time, it would probably hurt just the same if she caught him with _anyone _but her. There's an awkward silence that seems to last forever until Puck decides to break the ice.

"Um, Krystal…this is Santana, my ex-wife," Puck introduces sheepishly, "Santana, this is-"

"No need to get acquainted. The kids and I were just leaving," she says in her cool, ice-queen way. If anything, Santana Lopez is a good mother, and good mothers can't have their babies hanging around skanks. It is simply inappropriate, among other things. To be frank, this isn't really about the safety of the kids. It's about seeing her ex-husband with some other chick and realizing how much it truly bothered her. Besides, this is the longest conversation she and Puck have shared in a couple of months, and it's starting to freak her out.

"Wait, you have kids?" Krystal asks stupidly. Puck starts to formulate a response somewhere along the lines of "Are you an idiot? Did you not see the Hello Kitty toothbrush in the bathroom? Or the marker art on my fridge? Or how about the huge family portrait hanging over your head?" but Santana is already halfway out the door.

"Wait, San!" Puck yells as he grabs her, his hand grazing the cold metal band that replaced her wedding ring a year ago. Santana flinches at the use of his old pet name for her. "I promise she'll be out of here in two minutes, I swear. She's just some chick I picked up at the bar last night, and it was just sex. It was a mistake and it won't happen again," he says pleadingly, with a desperate look in his eyes. Santana doesn't know why he's explaining the situation to her as if she was still his girlfriend and she just walked in on him cheating on her, but the look of hurt must be evident in her eyes.

"I just…I've been feeling lonely. I've missed you, okay?" Puck says in a strikingly genuine voice. He's about to lose the only time he's going to get with his kids for a week, and on top of that, he's pissed off the ex-wife he still wishes he had. It seems like the perfect time for him to let this little confession slip, this confession that has been growing inside of him for the last couple of months. Noah Puckerman has done a lot of stupid things in his life, but losing the love of his life takes the fucking cake.

Santana gazes up into Puck's deep brown eyes with an unreadable expression. It should be a little late to be feeling nostalgic, right? So why does she feel a little flutter of hope slowly creeping up? "I miss you so much," she wants to reply but Krystal reappears fully dressed this time in an outfit that looks like it came from BabyGap.

"Look, Noah baby, I'm not leaving without a goodbye kiss," Krystal says flirtatiously, throwing in a giggle for the full effect. Puck just stares at Krystal with a look of alarm. Does she really think he's going to go plant a wet one on her while his ex-wife is standing right there? Well, he certainly doesn't _want_ to kiss her. What was he thinking last night? Santana, on the other hand, just looks furious.

"Look honey, you're not gonna get one, so why don't you just leave?" Santana quips. Puck just smirks. He can't help it. There's nothing sexier than watching Santana get jealous. It's always been his weak spot.

"Oh yeah? Says who?" asks Krystal nastily.

"Me," replies Santana and right then and there, Santana Lopez nee Puckerman reaches up and gives her ex-husband a kiss with as much force and passion as her lithe little body can produce. Over Puck's shoulder, Santana fires an intimidating glare at poor Krystal, who's looking like she regrets being Puck's one night stand more and more with each second. She is _Santana Lopez_ after all. She'll lose her inner bitch when hell freezes over. Puck of course, is forced to comply and return the surprising kiss, not that he's complaining or anything. It's not every day that your ex-wife suddenly decides to stop being a bitch and make out with you.

"I'm just gonna leave now…" Krystal says cautiously. Krystal's got Santana's message loud and clear, the boy is hers.

"Yeah, but leave through the back door. I don't want my kids seeing you," Puck says, and Krystal's out. Santana just smiles.

"Look, I was going to take the kids to Rainforest Café today. Wanna come? I know you don't wanna waste a hot outfit like that on Brittany or whoever you were going to hang out with. Maybe we can talk?" Puck asks. Santana doesn't want to give him the pleasure of hearing that what she was really planning on doing was sitting at home watching reruns of Oprah with a pint of ice cream, so she just says "Of course. I have some stuff to tell you too."

They walk out to the sidewalk, where Kelsey and Noah Jr. are standing around looking bored out of their minds. "Daddy is going to take us to Rainforest Café, okay?" Santana says excitedly- and she's not faking it either.

"All of us?" Kelsey asks hopefully.

"Yup," Puck replies, putting his arm around Santana for good measure. Even yesterday, if he had tried that, Santana would have bitten his head off. In this moment, they aren't fighting over voicemail messages about who gets the kids this weekend. They aren't secretly being jealous of the blind date their friends have desperately set up to snap them out of their post-divorce depression. This is the way things should be. Santana just smiles blissfully and Puck gives her arm a little squeeze. They are a family again, even it's just for few hours. But Santana doubts this is the last time, seeing as that kiss definitely changed the game.

Kelsey thinks this is a dream come true. She's been extra good this year, asking God every night if he can bring her mommy and daddy back together again, even if it's just for a little bit. And now her wish has been granted. She doesn't care if she never gets any presents from Santa ever again, because she knows she'll always have this moment. To be honest, she has enough toys. Come on now, she is a child of divorce.

Unlike the rest of his family, what Noah Jr. has on his mind has nothing to do with the state of his parents' relationship. "Can we get the flaming volcano?" he asks.

"Sure, buddy," Puck answers with a chuckle and brushes his hand through his son's mini-mohawk. Who cares if he's going to fork over fifteen bucks for a brownie creation whose calorie count Santana is just going to complain about afterwards? Anything for his family.

**So review? Constructive critism is great! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the lateness, but the good news is that I have the next chapter already written! I'll post it when I feel like I have a good amount of reviews and when I have time. So probably in a few days.**

Noah "Puck" Puckerman is one lucky bastard. That's what he thinks at least. I mean, what did he ever do to deserve such a hot wife? Especially one that is steaming his suit jacket right in front of him, wearing nothing but her signature black bra and panty set. That's right, God must fucking love him or something. His wife, Santana, isn't even trying. It's just a natural thing for her to exude sex appeal, even at the age of 39. To her, she's just mundanely steaming her husband's jacket, and she hasn't found the time to get dressed yet.

Just as Puck is getting himself situated on the bed staring at his wife's ass, his fourteen-year-old daughter Kelsey bursts through the door. It's hard to believe his little girl is already a teenager. She's wearing a bright yellow dress with a white cardigan and white ballet flats, with just a touch of clear gloss on her lips. Kelsey certainly isn't _sexy_; she's pretty, in that ethereal, demure way. Nonetheless, he'll have to be chasing the boys away with a stick pretty soon.

"Mom! Have you seen my curling iron?" Kelsey wails, "My hair looks like crap!" Kelsey's in that over-exaggerating, teenage speak phase. Puck thinks her hair looks gorgeous, luscious even, but what does he know?

"It's on the bathroom counter. Remember to use heat protectant or else your hair will be fried," Santana replies without looking up. It's always amazed Puck how his wife always knows what's going on.

"'Kay thanks. You look hot, by the way, mom," Kelsey says as she runs out of the room, in search for her curling iron. Santana smiles. Soon she finds her husband's strong arms wrapped around her tiny waist and his mouth attacking the nape of her neck.

"She's right you know, you do look hot," he whispers between kisses, running his hands up and down her body.

"Always babe," Santana responds as she moves on to steaming the sleeve. She figures she'll let him have his short-lived fun with her now. It's not like he's in the way or anything, and she does enjoy it.

"How about a quickie?" he asks with a hopeful smirk.

"No," she replies with a chuckle. That's Santana for you, always maintaining control in any and all situations.

"Why not?" he whines. That's Puck for you, always having sex on the mind. She can't possibly expect him to just sit there doing nothing while she's dressed like that.

"Because. The kids are downstairs and I still have to get dressed to both our dismays. Besides, we have a wedding to go to, remember?" she reasons. To be honest, sex sounds _really_ good right now. This whole wedding ordeal has been very stressful and she can practically feel the wrinkles permanently embedding themselves into her forehead.

Oh right, the wedding. Today, Puck's daughter is getting married. No, not Kelsey. Beth. It seems like yesterday that he knocked up Quinn Fabray in high school. Now Beth Corcoran, at the ripe old age of twenty-two, is getting married to some guy she met in college. Man, Puck can't even begin to fathom how old that makes him feel. Strangely enough, his age and his wife are the only thing on his mind right now. He feels like he should be feeling a little bit more proud, or some other girly emotion that derives from being a father. Isn't it like a paternal obligation to feel sentimental when your daughter gets married? Whatever. He shakes the feeling away like a dirty rag.

Beth is hardly his daughter. Sure, he got updates from Shelby the first couple years of Beth's life. A few letters here and there. Sometimes even a DVD with her singing. But real quality time? Nah. He's hung out with her, like three times in his entire life, despite her living just across town. The first time was when she was born, and that doesn't count. The second was when he ran into her and Shelby at the grocery store when he was reaching for a box of Froot Loops, and the third?

Oh man. The third time was such a cringe-worthy failure of biological father-daughter bonding he barely wants to acknowledge it. It was Santana who convinced him to do it, naturally. She came home one day after running into Shelby at the bookstore, who wanted to have Beth maybe spend a day with her biological father and his family? You would think Santana would mind letting her man spend time with his bastard child. The bastard child that was definitely not her's, but her high school best friend's. But when Santana said she thought it was a great idea the next morning, Puck nearly dropped his toothbrush into the toilet in surprise. He didn't necessarily want to spend time with Beth. He figured he hadn't been around exactly, doing his biological father duties -whatever they were, if they even existed-, and Beth seemed like a fine girl. Why would he bother to start now and mess everything up? But of course, Santana talked him into it. Something about bonding, and preparations for their new son, who was to be born in a couple of months.

When nine-year-old Beth arrived on their doorstep the next day, Puck was shocked at how scared she looked. She looked like she was shrinking into the hydrangea bush. She refused to get off the porch and enter the Puckerman house. No matter how many different ways he tried to coax her inside, it always failed. It was Santana and Kelsey who got her to come inside, with the promise of baking cookies.

"Come on, my mommy's going to make cookies and you're my sister, so I'm going to let you help!" Kelsey has said before taking Beth's hand and dragging her in with as much force as a toddler could. But it was hardly the homecoming even then. For the next four hours, Beth drew patterns into the dusty layer of leftover flour on the kitchen counter and hid behind Santana's leg. Puck just avoided the whole situation after a couple failed attempts at conversations. Well, is it still considered a conversation if it's just one person talking? Needless to say, Beth did not return to the Puckerman home.

So yeah. Beth is pretty much a stranger to the Puckerman family. Noah Jr. forgets she exists 99% of the time. When Kelsey first understood the whole Beth situation, all she had to say was, "Wow, dad. I can't believe you were such a slut," and ran off to the computer. Santana will never admit that thinking about Beth makes her sad because it was Quinn Fabray, not her, that brought Puck's first child into the world. Still, she loves the girl in a dysfunctional-biological-stepmother way. And Puck? He's never _forgotten_ about Beth per se. He thinks about her time to time, but knows Beth is much better off with Shelby. Still, he lacks the warm bond a father should have with his daughter.

Santana nudges Puck out of his trance with the end of a hanger. "Which one?" she asks, prompting him to look at two dresses. One's a floral indigo dress and the other looks identical to the first but with a black pattern…

"Wait, why do you have two dresses that are the same?" Puck is confused, "And did I pay for both of those?"

"I couldn't decide," Santana answers hopelessly, "And yes you did, because you love me"

"That I do. Go with the black," Puck replies honestly, and gives his wife a soft kiss.

"Okay, get the car started. We have to go," Santana says as she gives her husband another kiss.

Three hours later, they're at an elegantly decorated table with an extravagant orchid centerpiece. The ballroom is lit up with hundreds of candles and there is soft music playing. The beautiful bride is sitting a couple tables away with her new husband. Noah Jr. wishes he were at home playing Call of Duty because honestly, there isn't much to do here. Everything is stiff and fancy. He wonders what would happen if someone were to pull the fire alarm. They are sitting across from Quinn Fabray and her politician husband. Noah Jr.'s pretty sure that his mom is not a big fan of her, seeing as that they used to be best friends but somewhere in the mix she ended up having his dad's baby? Whatever. The point is that conversation is limited to small talk, and the tension is so thick you can cut it with a knife.

Kelsey is flabbergasted that someone would spend so much money on a wedding. Shelby Corcoran proudly announced earlier that Beth's dress cost $10,000 and was designed by Vera Wang herself as a favor. There are intricate flower displays everywhere, and just as many waiters walking around serving expertly garnished hors d'oeuvres. And she's pretty sure that the lady at the piano is Celine Dion…

Santana, although you might not be able to tell from her seemingly fake expression, is delighted she is sitting with Quinn. Looks like Beth jumbled all the biological family together, or rather, Shelby did. Finally, the score is settled. In high school Quinn might have had everything (head Cheerio, prom queen, McKinley's golden girl), but now she's just a Lima, Ohio housewife married to a fallen-from-graces politician. But now, Santana's got it all, a loving husband and two wonderful kids. Santana should feel more victorious, but really she just pities Quinn. She knows for a fact that Quinn gets left in a lonely mansion while her husband takes frequent trips to DC. So, Santana shoots polite smiles in Quinn's face every once in a while. Smiles that are half sympathy, half boastful.

Puck feels nothing. He probably should, but he doesn't. Why not? Shouldn't he be feeling sad or happy or anything really? This is just any other wedding to him. The evening can be summed up like this: come in, be in awe of the fanciness, congratulate Beth, give her the coffee maker they bought her, and sit at the table for the rest of the night feeling out of place. Well, he might as well take advantage of the free food and open bar.

"Hey Kels, wanna go dance?" Puck says as he gets up. Kelsey's eyes light up and she gets up as well. She's been sitting at this table for the last hour bored out of her mind, too scared to move, for fear of messing anything up. Quinn gives her husband an envious look, but he's on his BlackBerry.

They sway slowly to the music. It's been a while since he's waltzed. The last time was his own wedding in fact. Kelsey rests her head on her father's chest, where she can hear his heart beat slow and relaxed.

"Daddy?" she asks.

"Yeah?" he replies.

"When I get married, we're just gonna mingle in the backyard and eat pigs in a blanket okay?" Kelsey declares. Puck can't help but smile. Then it hits him. He feels no sentiment about Beth Corcoran's wedding because Beth Corcoran is not his daughter. She's somebody else's daughter. _His_ daughter is standing right in front of him with a dreamy expression on her face. His daughter is the one he taught to ride a bike when she was six. His daughter is the one that still runs around the house singing along to Hannah Montana. His daughter is the one who he's going to be leading down the aisle in a decade or so, giving her away from some undeserving bastard. It is going to be at Kelsey Puckerman's wedding that Noah Puckerman cries, laughs, and feels everything in between, because it's Kelsey that is his baby girl.

"Sounds perfect, sweetheart," Puck responds.

**Not too satisfied with it, it feels a bit too happy and not deep for me...but review and tell me what you think! xoxo.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Here we go again...**

Santana Puckerman has a hunch, and it's definitely not a good hunch. She's pretty sure it's an accurate assumption. Her hunch, that is, and Santana's always had the intuition of a narcotics doggie. Remember when that bitch Mercedes Jones started making moves on her man in high school? She sniffed the cheap drugstore hairspray in her weave from a mile away. Then she took action, and nipped the whole debacle in the bud. That's what she has to do now. Fix whatever's going on with her daughter.

Kelsey is a good girl. She gets straight As, doesn't sleep around, and is just as nice to the computer geeks as she is to the homecoming court. In short, Kelsey is everything her parents weren't in high school. That's how her parents know they did their job right. It's all about raising your kids to be better than you are. But lately, Kelsey's been acting weird. Not rebellious, just uncharacteristic. She never has an appetite for anything - not even Puck's famous sloppy Joe's - and has been wearing baggy, unshapely clothes that do little to show off her slim physique. Plus, she hasn't been talking much, not even to her younger brother.

Having been a teenage girl once, Santana can only deduce that her daughter must be having some sort of weight crisis. Weight crises mean low self-esteem and low self-esteem means drastic measures, the kind every parent fears. She remembers starving herself and drinking those horrible Sue Sylvester shakes every week to keep the weight down in high school. Hell, she makes herself one of those shakes every once in a while even now; she's kind of gotten used to the taste. Then again Santana might be paranoid about this whole thing, she remembers being a lot of that in high school too. All those nights alone at home wondering what Puck was doing. She needs a second opinion. She needs someone who will tell her she's either crazy - a quite plausible possibility - or right to be concerned. Mother's intuition or something like that. Someone like her husband, who's been talking to the plumber upstairs about why their toilet's been leaking.

"Hey," she greets her husband as she hands him a cup of wine that is identical to the one she's been nursing. The plumber is out in his van, getting some replacement pipes.

"Thanks. What's up, baby?" Puck replies after giving his wife a chaste kiss. Puck wonders what he's done to deserve this serendipitous visit. Santana's been sitting at the kitchen counter all morning, with a far off look in her eyes. He had decided he'd let her chill out for a while before picking her brain.

Well, it's now or never. She might as well just say it. She could either be totally wrong or right on, but it's better safe than sorry, right? "I think Kelsey thinks she's having a weight problem, and I want to know what I should be doing as a mother," she blurts. There. She said it, quick and painless, like ripping off a band-aid. Now all she has to do is wait for her husband's reaction.

"Okay, what makes you think this?" Puck replies calmly. How can he look so collected in a crisis like this? Their daughter could be suicidal for all they know! To be honest, Puck thinks this is just his wife exaggerating like she always does, but he figures he'll give it a shot. For his wife, of course.

"She hasn't been eating well and she's walking around wearing those god-awful baggy sweatpants! What if she's got an eating disorder? Or what if she's suicidal because she thinks she's fat?" Santana cries, throwing her hands into the air. Can her husband not comprehend the gravity of the situation? Puck is trying his very best to suppress the laugh slowly creeping up his throat. Santana's worried Kelsey might be suicidally depressed based on that "evidence?" Those aren't even legitimate reasons! Come on, this is Kelsey they're talking about. She's his little girl. She can't be insecure about her weight already.

"So? You've never eaten a lot and you walk around in my clothes sometimes, and you're perfectly fine," Puck rationally explains. That kind of behavior is nothing out of the ordinary for him.

"That's only when I feel fat after I randomly decide to try on my old Cheerios outfit and discover my ass is too big!" she wails. Oh god, here she goes again. He's had to deal with fat talks for the last two decades.

"Baby. Neither you or Kelsey is fat, and neither of you have any reason to be insecure. This is Kelsey we're talking about. Trust her. Besides, I like your ass the way it is," he says slyly, giving his wife a playful smack on her bottom, which sends her into a fit of giggles.

"Ahem. Mr. and Mrs. Puckerman? It seems that your pipes are leaking because well, they're old, and because acid is eroding them. An acid that is most commonly found in vomit. I'll be out of your way in a few minutes," the plumber says after he magically reappears. Puck's first thought is, "Oh shit, is Santana pregnant again?"

Santana, however, is a little more distraught. After throwing herself into Puck's unprepared arms, she cries a muffled "Our daughter is bulimic" into his chest. Puck still thinks this is bullshit, but goes along with it for his wife. Over the years, he's realized he never wants to be on Santana's bad side. Ever. Or else there will be repercussions. This will probably all blow over later, and he and Kelsey are going to look back on this moment one day and see what a crazy lunatic Santana is, right? Well, despite his personal opinion, he's still standing in the middle of his bathroom kissing Santana's forehead, telling her it's all good.

Three hours later when seventeen-year-old Kelsey Puckerman returns home from a trip to the mall, she finds both her parents sitting on the couch with a bottle of wine between them, which freaks her out for three reasons. 1) They're sitting on the couch together, doing nothing. Usually when they get alone time, they're upstairs doing the nasty. Kelsey's come to learn that a locked door means do not enter at _all_ costs unless you want a lifetime's worth of serious psychological therapy. 2) Her dad has a blasé, bored expression on his face, while her mom looks like she's been crying. 3) They're staring straight at her. Oh god, what if they found out?

"Hi guys," she says apprehensively. That's right, stay cool Kelsey. If you act like nothing's wrong, they'll believe you. Her dad motions for her to sit down between them, so she complies. Her mom looks like she's about to shatter any minute. "Mom," she prods, "What's going on? Are you guys getting divorced again?"

With that comment, Puck is alert as he's been all day. "What? No! Where the fuck did you get that idea?" he exclaims rhetorically. He doesn't like to be reminded of the time in his life when he was a total douche to Santana. He considers their divorce one of the biggest mistakes or his life.

"Kelsey. What I'm going to ask you I'm only asking because your father and I are concerned. You can be honest, okay? We won't judge you," her mom asks. Oh sweet holy mother of Jesus, they know. Kelsey can't even look at her parents. Those pitiful looks they have on their faces, looking at her like she's Bambi or some other innocuous forest animal. After all her parents have given her, she disappoints them like this? She feels so ashamed she wants to run upstairs and hide in her room, but she can't.

"Do you have an eating disorder?" her mother asks point-blank, staring her straight in the eye so hard that it's getting difficult to hold her gaze. What the fuck? No! Where did this come from? Kelsey knows she should be making a shocked face, but her body isn't responding. Looking at the love and concern on her parents' faces just kills her, after what she's done. The guilt is eating her alive. And so, she bursts into tears, which of course, makes her parents assume the worst.

"You do? Jesus, Kelsey. I really thought your mother was wrong about this one…" her dad says softly.

"No! No! I don't, I swear!" she cries, burying her face into her own hands. Her mother lets out a sigh of relief and pours herself another glass of wine. Why do they care so much? She hasn't done anything to deserve this devoted attention!

"Then what's wrong? You haven't been eating, and I've noticed you wearing those loose clothes. Talk to us, honey. We can't help you if you don't tell us what's wrong," her mother trails off. Kelsey can't bear to say it. She has to tell them, though. She just won't look into their tender eyes. So she simply points to her abdomen.

Puck sucks in a huge burst of air and immediately feels the need to get up and punch something, but he can't because his baby girl needs him right now. He remembers all Quinn Fabray wanted when she was pregnant was her daddy, and that son of a bitch couldn't even man up for his daughter. Santana is even more surprised. This is a mother's worst nightmare coming true. What did she and Puck do to deserve this? Were they bad parents or something? Actually, what did her sweet little girl do to deserve this? No, this can't be right. There's no way she could have missed this.

"You're pregnant?" Santana manages. She can barely get the toxic words out.

"Not anymore," Kelsey whispers tearfully. She got an abortion last week. She never should have let that boy get her drunk. How many times had her parents warned her about teen pregnancy? The only person to blame for it is herself.

"Oh, baby," Santana cries, stroking her daughter's silky hair. Santana is blaming herself. It's her job to keep her daughter out of trouble, and she's failed. That's all there is to it. But she has to deal with her own guilt later, because her daughter needs her right now.

So, Kelsey cries and Santana comforts. It's going to be okay. Everything's fine. We're here for you.

Mother knows best, right?

**So I feel like I've been neglecting Noah Jr as a character. Does anyone have any ideas about what I should do? I will take them very seriously, promise. I also feel like Im losing readers because each time I get reviews for a chapter, they're from people totally different than the previous chapters. Are you guys still out there?**

**Send me a review? xoxo emily.  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for the delay, but I've got the next chapter written too! A special thanks to Isilady, who reviews every chapter, and .Gleek for her wonderful, meaningful review. Her suggestion was the inspiration for this chapter :) Which shows, if you guys review with suggestions, I will take them seriously!**

Noah Puckerman Jr. is fed up. Fed up that nobody gives a shit. In fact, he might go as far as to say that he is fed up that nobody has _ever_ given a shit when it came to him. He's fed up with his Spanish teacher because each time she moves on to a new chapter, he's just another grade closer to failing. He's fed up with the girl next door, who would see that he has boyfriend potential if she would just notice his incessant passes for god's sake. But most of all, he's fed up with his family, who just never pay attention to anything he does.

Ever since his sister got pregnant, then unpregnant, his family's been totally whack. His mom spends most of her time moping around in her room, and when she occasionally emerges she looks so uncharacteristic that Noah has to stop and stare every time. For the last week, she's been walking around with her hair down and uncombed, in her favorite bunny slippers, and a cheetah print nightgown. She even missed her appointment at the spa this afternoon. Shockingly, his dad doesn't even care, and his dad is a big part of the reason his mom spends hours on her personal grooming. He's been struggling around the house to pack their lunches in the morning, going grocery shopping, attempting to do whatever his mom usually does- but totally failing.

His sister Kelsey? Nothing's changed with her. Kelsey's the center of attention, as usual. The worst part is that she doesn't even realize she's the princess in the Puckerman household. She just sweetly answers every question about her day and goes on with eating her wheat-free, gluten-free, animal-free, anything good-free dinner. He's be lying if he wasn't the teensiest bit excited when he found out Kelsey was pregnant. But instead of getting maimed for it, Kelsey ended up being a martyr. As if she so selflessly sacrificed her body or something, and now deserves everyone's pity. Yeah, right. Do his parents even remember how someone gets pregnant? Actually, scratch that. Of course they do.

But the other day when he was watching Jackass on MTV, Noah had an epiphany. If nobody's gonna care what he does, why should he? So that's the reason behind all his douchebag shenanigans lately. On Monday, he skipped Spanish and bought beer with his brand new fake ID. On Tuesday, he cut class again and went and drank the aforementioned beer behind the school. On Wednesday, he hit up the beach and met some seniors that go to the school across town. The kind of school that makes his grandmother turn her nose up at public education in America. On Thursday, those seniors invited him to go light some fireworks in the abandoned barn out by the interstate. So now, on a Friday evening, Noah Puckerman Jr. is getting ready to meet his new friends.

"Where are you going, Noah?" his mom asks routinely. Noah can see that she's slowly getting back to normal. She's got one of those pistachio colored face masks on as she lounges on the couch, nestled into his dad's side.

"Out with some guys I met at the beach," he brief explains. There's no need to give more information than necessary.

"Do we know these guys?" his mom says. Even though she's been in a little funk this past week, she's still concerned as always.

"Nope," Noah responds. Puck rolls his eyes, remembering he was just the same way when he was fifteen. He thought he was so cool, but really, he was just a punk. One word answers all the time, being mysterious about his whereabouts. He had thought the ambiguity of his plans added to his enigma. Of course, it just drove his own mother crazy and he can see why now.

"Noah, tell your mother exactly where you're going to be, when you'll come home, and who you'll be with," Puck says coolly. Noah, however, thinks this is total crap. But he really shouldn't be surprised. Kelsey never gets grilled whenever she hangs out with her friends, and she got _pregnant_. But him? He hasn't been an angel, he'll admit, but he sure as hell hasn't done anything bad enough to deserve this interrogation. He doesn't need this.

"I'll be fine. Don't call me unless someone's dying," Noah says drily as he walks out the door. He figures he should give his parents a little bit of information out of obligation as a son, not that they'll be worrying about him or anything. They're obviously only asking because it's their job.

After her son leaves, Santana's mind is contemplating. What if her son is out doing something immoral, or worse, something illegal? Her husband of course blew her off as if it was nothing. "Don't worry. He's just being a teenager. I don't remember doing anything remotely horrible when we were fifteen," Puck had said. To which of course, she had raised a semi-disheveled eyebrow. Her husband must be getting old, because she's pretty sure they did a whole lot more than kissing on the porch and going to the mall when they were fifteen.

Lately, Santana's been second guessing everything she's been doing. She wonders all the time if she's a good mother. A good wife. A good person, even. Good mothers don't end up with pregnant daughters. But good mothers also raise human, mistake-prone daughters that do the right thing. So which category does she go under? Is it one of those things that is one or the other? Or can she be all of the above? It's all rather confusing.

But she's so thankful for her husband. Puck has been so understanding. He's been picking up her slack while her mind wanders off to a limbo of random musings, where it will often stay for extended periods of time. And she's never once asked him to either. It's as if he knows exactly what she needs before she even mentions it. And it is her husband's voice that breaks her out of her silent reverie on this lazy Friday night.

"What's on your mind, San?" Puck asks from his spot on the couch, his side nuzzled into hers. He can tell Santana's off in lalaland again.

"Am I a good mother?" she asks bluntly, staring into his eyes with the intensity that can only be known as Santana Lopez.

"What? Of course, baby!" Puck sputters. He's known Santana's been down lately, but he just credited it to the slight disappointment of their daughter's pregnancy. Sure, he knows that Kelsey's not perfect and it's not all her fault, but she did get pregnant, and that's no light matter. No parent is ever overjoyed to hear their baby girl got knocked up. He had no idea Santana has been blaming herself.

"Kelsey made a mistake, but it's not our fault. She's pretty much an adult and she makes her own decisions now. We have two amazing kids who don't get into too much trouble and it's all thanks to you. You're great. Stop blaming yourself because you're going to go into a crazy person spiral," Puck explains as he plants a soft kiss on his wife's lips.

Santana smiles and deepens the kiss, "You better be right," she mumbles, as she swings her legs over his body so that she is on top of him. Her husband always knows exactly what to say to make her feel better.

"Mmm, I've missed you," Puck says between breaths. His hands are roaming underneath her nightgown, veering into a dangerous yet familiar territory. It's been almost been a week since he's gotten laid, and a guy has needs. He's been a dutiful husband, doing chores around the house and taking over for Santana while she's been in her depressed mood. And now she's going to reward him, right?

"Here?" she questions. Puck just shoots her a suggestive look that taunts her to give in to the temptation. Well, what else are they going to do on a Friday night alone at home? Puck's always been the kind of guy who swore he would never let marriage ruin his sex life, and he's not going to change his mind now.

"Why not? The kids are gone, and when was the last time we didn't do it on a bed? Come on, Santana," he pleads. If that's not the sexiest thing Santana's ever heard, she doesn't know what is. And this might just be the exciting boost she needs to pick herself up.

"Fine. But I'm warning you, I haven't had a bikini wax in weeks," Santana simply says.

After chuckling, Puck lets out a gruff "I don't care" – and he's not lying either. He doesn't. His girl is back to normal, and everything is back to normal for a while. What more can he ask for?

**All right, what do you think you guys? Help a girl out and leave a review! If I get five reviews, I'll post the next chapter on Friday or Saturday!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Im back! Enjoy!**

At exactly 10:23 PM on a Friday night, Santana Puckerman felt her heart drop into her stomach. Really. She thought that sinking feeling of horror and dread was just a fictional lie she read about in her horribly written chick lit, but no, it is most definitely the real deal.

The phone had woken her husband up from the comfortable nap they were sharing on the living room couch. As she saw her husband's face fall with each word the operator said, she began to feel her own heart sink. She didn't need Puck to tell her that it was the hospital calling or that their son was hurt for her to know that something was wrong.

So now she is sprawled in the passenger seat of her husband's car wearing her daughter's Juicy Couture sweatsuit that's a size too small, a head full of sex-hair, and a worried expression on her face. Her husband, who is probably driving fifteen miles past the speed limit, has a look that's slightly more frantic than his usual peaceful one. But it's enough to be a dead giveaway to Santana that her husband is yes indeed, not okay.

"So what the fuck happened again?" she asks anxiously. She can honestly say she doesn't remember anything from the explanation her husband provided earlier. Not a single detail.

"Noah and some of those punks from across town lit some fireworks by that old barn on Henderson Street and the barn caught on fire and some of the kids –Noah included- got burned," he says. His mind is racking with troublesome thoughts. At first he was shocked. How could Noah do something like this? He's practically a baby. Then he was hit with a realization. His son is fifteen. If Puck was still a devout Jew and believed in bar mitzvahs and all that other stuff, Noah would be considered a man. And now, Puck is just mad. Mad that his son was stupid enough to pull a jackass move like this one. These types of pranks never end right, and trust him, he knows. He's also slightly mad at himself for not seeing his son slowly turn into this diabolical, rebelling mess. He should have seen it coming.

"What barn? And how hurt?" Santana demands. This is no time for games or sugarcoating the truth. She needs the facts, hard and fast. Just like everything she's ever done.

"That one where we used to go in high school to make out. And the nurse said they're still evaluating his burns, but nothing is broken. Don't worry, no one is pressing charges," Puck explains.

"That barn? That barn is ancient! It could have fallen on top of them!" Santana exclaims, but there's no need to tell Puck. He knows. That barn has a lot of special memories for them. Whenever they were both exhausted from football and Cheerios practice, they'd break in and just lie on the hay covered floor, telling each other about what traumatic drama was happening in their respective homes that week. For Santana, it was the constant looks of disappointment and disapproval from her orthodox Catholic parents. For Puck, it was his dad randomly showing up for little periods of time pretending to give a damn about his family, only to leave a couple days later with a belly full of whiskey and a pocket full of his Ma's hard-earned cash.

"We're here," Puck announces curtly and they both dash into the lobby, where a nurse automatically greets them by name. It's a small town.

"He's got a few second degree burns on his forearms, but other than that, he's fine. They'll heal in a couple of weeks with proper care. He's awake now, would you like to see him?" the nurse says brightly as Santana lets out a huge sigh of relief. Santana doesn't reply. Instead, she marches down the hall to her son's room, her husband in tow. When she reaches his room, she swings open the door and finds her son sitting up in his bed with his arms covered in bandages.

"Mom! Guess what? I can go home tomorrow!" Noah says happily. However, Santana's expression is less than thrilled. She marches over to her son and gives him a smack she wouldn't even dare give her mother-in-law.

"You stupid little prick. What the fuck were you thinking? You could have been seriously hurt!" she yells before retreating and stealing a piece of his sugarfree Jello. Noah has a somewhat scared look on his face. Puck has an amused look on his face. To be honest, he wasn't too worried. Any child of his would be strong enough to handle a few burns. He didn't raise any wimps. When Kelsey got hit by a biker in the street when she was eleven, she got up, brushed herself up, and apologized for getting in the way.

"I'm glad you're okay, son. But don't think you're getting by without a punishment. And apologize to your mother for worrying her," Puck just says.

"Thanks, dad. It's alright, I deserve it. I've been a douche. I'm not going to hang out with those guys anymore. And sorry mom, I can tell you were worried," Noah says, eyeing his mother's wacky outfit.

"Damn right I was!" Santana declares, before resting her head on her husband's shoulders.

"And I'm sorry I cut Spanish this week. And I'm sorry I have a C in that class," Noah says. Might as well let it all out at once. It makes it more likely to just get one punishment for multiple bad deeds.

"How can you have C in Spanish? You're half Nicaraguan!" Santana exclaims. Puck chuckles. He's heard the "disgrace to the race" talk multiple times from his own mother, and now Noah's going to get it. Noah's glad he's off the hook, for now. If it was serious, his mother wouldn't be ranting about his grades.

But before Noah can defend himself, the cheery nurse is back.

"Mr. and Mrs. Puckerman? A word with you out in the hall, please? It seems that something else has come up, coincidentally on the day that your son's been admitted," the nurse says. Puck is confused. What more can happen? Doesn't lightning only strike in the same place once? It's not like Kelsey had a burning door fall on her at camp, right? Santana just drags him out into the fluorescently lit hallway.

"Mr. Puckerman, I really don't know how to say this to you. I mean, you've been through so much already today. But your father, a Jonah Puckerman, has had a series of minor seizures and is being transferred here to have a very risky brain surgery. He'll be here tomorrow morning, and we need you to fill out some paperwork tomorrow, seeing as he is temporarily paralyzed and unfit to authorize surgery," the nurse says.

Puck is frozen speechless. He honestly has no words to say to this strange woman, who just unloaded this huge burden on his shoulders. His deadbeat dad can't be sick. His dad can't be coming here, of all places. Why would he want to come here? He hasn't seen his son or daughter for fifteen years, so why pick Lima, Ohio to have a surgery? Thankfully, Santana is collected enough to respond.

"That's impossible. My father-in-law no longer lives in Ohio," Santana snaps. Although she first met Puck's father back when they were in high school, she can count on one hand the number of times she's seen him.

"There's no mistake ma'am. He's being brought in via helicopter from Michigan, and he specifically asked for your husband," the nurse says calmly before continuing, "We'll need you here at 8 tomorrow morning for consent or else the elder Mr. Puckerman can't go into surgery. Why don't you go home tonight and get some rest? This must be all very unsettling for you."

Santana is so spitting mad she can barely manage the nod she gives the nurse. What has her family done to deserve this? Sure she rarely goes to Mass anymore, but honestly, she's stopped believing in God. She can't remember the last time she talked to the man upstairs. Maybe she's never believed in him.

She's had her heart dragged through the wringer with divorce, her daughter's been pregnant, her son's been burned, and now her husband is most likely going to be going through a pathological crisis regarding age-old daddy issues. That horrible man she shamefully calls her father-in-law doesn't deserve Puck as a son. He hasn't ever given a damn about Puck, so why start now? Why ruin their idyllic life just when it was starting to get back to normal? It's just like Jonah Puckerman to randomly show up and pretend to care just to get something profitable out of it. How dare he? After all, they're barely family.

Santana temporarily leaves to say goodbye to her son, promising to return tomorrow to pick him up. She guides her husband, who's been surprisingly silent -well not too surprisingly, given the situation- into their car and she drives them home. It's her turn to be strong for him.

That night, they are both lying wide awake in bed, despite being completely exhausted.

"Are you going to sign tomorrow?" Santana asks from her side of the bed. She doesn't need to give any more details because Puck knows exactly what she's talking about. He's been thinking about his father ever since he found out the news. Well, if you can even call him that. Jonah Puckerman is more like a sperm donor. It was his ma that raised him and his sister. Jonah Puckerman never showed up until he needed something from them. And the second he got it, he abandoned town in his usual fashion. Puck doesn't even know why he cares so much. He stopped caring the third time Jonah Puckerman returned then fled, when Puck was just starting high school. Maybe it's because this situation is life or death. Should he be the bigger man and just sign or give the sick bastard the negligence he deserves and leave him to die? And who is he to decide if someone gets to live or die?

After a long silence, Puck finally replies, "I have to San, he's my dad and I can't just let him die. I mean what if me and Noah were in that situation?" Santana isn't surprised; she knew what her husband would decide. Puck's always needed a father figure and no matter how many times she's tried to use her love to fill that void, only the son of a bitch known as Jonah Puckerman can give Puck that particular closure.

"Okay. He doesn't deserve you as a son though," Santana softly says and gives her husband a chaste kiss before closing her eyes.

"I know. It doesn't mean I forgive him for everything," he responds, but Santana is already fast asleep. Puck figures he'll call it a night. Long day tomorrow.

**Let me know what you think! I only got one review last chapter. Think we can step it up? xoxo**


	7. Chapter 7

**Alright, that's all I've got. School's started so the chapters will be coming less frequently, sorry :( But don't give up on me! **

If you had told Noah "Puck" Puckerman twenty years ago that he'd be driving to the hospital to visit his ailing father, he would have first laughed in your face then threw you into a dumpster. Why? Because 1) he hated hospitals with a burning passion, and 2) he hated his failure of a father more. But things have changed. He's a father himself now and he can certainly imagine what it would feel like if he was dying and his own son refused to visit him.

Of course, the circumstances are different. Puck is actually a father to his son. He actually stuck around when Santana got pregnant the first time, and even more surprisingly, he's enthusiastically sat through countless dance recitals, swim meets, and excruciatingly painful conversations about which Jonas Brother is the hottest. After raising Kelsey and Noah Jr., Puck's realized something. You don't need to be a perfect father to have great kids. 99% of being a good dad is just being there. And that's the easy part.

So how is it that his own deadbeat of a father couldn't even stick around for that? He spent the greater part of his twenties and thirties wondering that. At first he actually cared about getting an answer. Were he and Sarah annoying kids or something? Was his ma high-maintenance and really shitty in bed? What was just so wrong with their family that he didn't want to stay and experience every little exhilarating moment with them? Then Santana happened. And Kelsey. And Noah. After having a family of his own, Puck numbed the pain of growing up without a father by putting everything he had into becoming a family man. By any means possible, he would not become his dad.

He used to care. He used to feel a little pang in his heart each time Father's Day rolled around, a pang too close for comfort. But now? He's accepted that his father's just a letdown of a man. It's his loss anyway, right?

"Are you okay?" Santana asks from the passenger seat, giving him a comforting look before placing her hand on his thigh. She's not an idiot. She knows her husband. She knows that no matter how many times he says that he doesn't care about his father, he still cares that his father didn't care about him. But it's not his fault for caring, really. If it were up to Puck, he'd erase his father out of his memories forever, like in those Men in Black movies. Still, he can't because Jonah Puckerman was too much of a wimp to come back a last time just to say goodbye. He opened up a can of worms and didn't have the decency to close it. The result? An eternally questioning son who can't forget, no matter how hard he tries. Santana hopes this visit will give her husband the closure he so desperately wants.

"I'm fine. It doesn't even matter that he's my dad or whatever. It could be a homeless person on the street for all I care. If all it took to save someone's life was me signing a piece of paper, I'd sign them all," Puck says. That's _not_ what she meant, and they both know it. She knew it only took Puck ten seconds to make up his mind about authorizing his father's life-saving surgery. He's not a big enough douche to withhold life from someone as revenge. He won't stoop that low. What she meant was the fact that just the mention of his father after all these years was enough for Puck to rehash his uncontrollable, pathological need for a father figure. Time doesn't heal all wounds. It just sticks a band-aid over them until something comes along and rips it open again

"Okay then. I know it's probably a lot easier if you just went in, signed, and left, but I think it's really brave of you to actually want to talk to him. I know I wouldn't if I were you," Santana says openly. She understands why Puck wants to talk to his father, to a certain degree. It's so he can show his father that he's a better person than Jonah ever could have been. It's a pride thing, a man thing.

"Will you go in with me? To talk to him, I mean. You don't have to talk. Just being there will make me feel more at ease, you know?" Puck asks. They stop at a red light and he's looking at her with a look of burning sincerity. Santana knows this is one of those rare moments that define their relationship. One of those moments where they both have let their guards down and are completely vulnerable with each other. She stops to brand this feeling into her heart so she can remember it forever.

"Of course. I love you," she says and gives him a soft kiss. The light changes to green. They drive on.

When they arrive at the hospital, they first check in with Noah Jr, who is to be released today after the whole barn burning down debacle.

"Hey mom, dad. Why are you here so early? You know I can't leave for like another hour. That hot nurse with the red hair has to come back," Noah says casually as he shoots another zombie's head off on the giant screen in front of him.

"Well, Noah. You're not the only person in the hospital we're here to see," Santana begins. In the car, they decided it was best for her to tell the kids about Puck's father. Puck didn't think he could handle it without punching something. At first, Santana didn't even see the point in telling them at all. Jonah Puckerman certainly didn't deserve to be known to his grandchildren. But Puck wanted them to know about him, just in case Jonah, you know, died.

"Oh yeah? Who else is stuck in here?" Noah asks without really paying attention. It's probably just some high school friend of his parents'. He doesn't really know any old people or sick people, other than his grandparents. Except his dad's dad, that is. All Noah really knows about him is that "he's never been in the picture" according to his mom.

"My old man. He's, uh, in the hospital for some surgery and I need to be here to consent. The doctors don't know if he's going to make it, so your mom and I are here to see him," Puck explains. He hasn't really thought much about what would happen if his dad died. It wouldn't really make that much of a difference to him. Why should it? He barely knows the guy.

"Oh. Okay. Well, do I have to see him? You told me once that he's a real douchebag," Noah says frankly. His grandpa definitely sounds like a douchebag. Ditching his family, coming back every once in a while just to leave again. He can't imagine what it would be like not having a dad. His mom would probably cry all the time.

"Not if you don't want to," Santana says.

"I think I do. We can show him what he missed out on, right dad?" Noah asks. It's payback time, he thinks.

"Right," Puck says halfheartedly.

"Mr. Puckerman? Your father would like to see you now. He's awake, but time is limited," says a nurse who randomly pops in.

"Sure," Puck replies and gets up, Santana in tow. Santana motions for Noah to stay here until they call for him.

When they first enter his father's room, all Puck can think about is how different the atmosphere is here. Much different from Noah's. It's dead silent and it's as if all the warmth has been sucked up with a vacuum cleaner. The television has been silenced into oblivion and the sunlight's been blocked with dark shades. His father is lying frailly on the bed, his head propped against the pillow. He makes a little noise when he sees them come in, a sign of acknowledgement. Puck takes an apprehensive step forward and walks over to his father. Santana follows, silently stroking her cashmere sweater.

"Hey son," Jonah says softly. It's a shock for Puck to see his father like this. He's always known his old man was a bum, but he was never fragile. Jonah looks like he's about to shatter at any minute.

"Hi dad. How are you feeling?" Puck says casually. He wants to scream at his father, ask him why he didn't stick around but he's afraid he might break him.

"Great. They put me on all the best drugs. Can't feel a thing," Jonah says tiredly.

"Yeah, you'd like that," Puck says.

"Thanks for coming, Noah. I know I haven't done anything to earn this pleasure. You know, I'm sorry, right? I'm sorry I wasn't around. I'm sorry I was a horrible father, but it looks like you turned out all right. Not that it had anything to do with me," Jonah croaks.

"Yeah. Well I know you why you left, I just don't understand it. You're a coward," Puck says frankly. Seeing his father like this, he truly does understand. Parenting is hard. Keeping a marriage intact through it all is even harder. Hell, Puck wanted to leave a couple of times himself, when Kelsey and Noah were babies and he just couldn't take it anymore. But he stuck it out like a trooper, and boy, was he glad he did. If his father had stayed through it all, he would have seen just how worth it it all was.

"Yeah I know. I deserve that. I don't wish I stayed though. If I did, I would have just fucked up everything," Jonah says after a long while.

"I don't wish you did either," Puck says quietly. He's glad he turned out like this. What didn't kill him only made him stronger. If it weren't for his disappointment of a father, he never would have been such a punk in high school, and he never would have been attracted to a girl like Santana. A girl who had a lot more going for her than he expected. A girl who shaped the rest of his life. So that's something to thank his father for right?

Santana coughs, surprising them all. She doesn't like hospitals. They're places where people go to die, not get better.

"Well, who's this pretty thing? This your lady, Noah?" Jonah asks, smiling for the first time. Santana feels awkward, out of place. She feels like her sweater is suffocating her, squeezing the life out of her. She self-consciously crosses her arms over her chest.

"Yeah dad. This is my wife, Santana," Puck gestures and Santana steps forward, taking a seat on her husband's lap. She gives Jonah a smile that could kill.

"Wife? It's nice to see your relationship's lasted this long," Jonah says sarcastically, "Got any kids?" Santana feels Puck tense against her. She strokes his arm, as if to tell him to calm down. It's just so typical of Jonah to expect nothing but failure from his son. As if Puck couldn't keep a wife if he tried. What a joke.

"Yeah. Two. Wanna see them?" Puck asks genuinely. Now he can show his father what he's really done in life. Shove it in his face. Look at him now, because everyone knows that the one thing Puck's most proud of is his children. Jonah nods. Santana leaves the room to go get Noah. Puck pulls his wallet out of his pocket and takes out a picture of Kelsey.

"This is Kelsey. She's seventeen. She's at horseback riding camp right now," Puck says, sliding the picture into his father's hands. Jonah studies it intently, as if it were an ancient artifact, not a dinky school picture.

"Well, she's a looker all right, you said there's another one?" Jonah asks. At that moment, Santana comes back with Noah behind him.

"This is Noah," Santana says, shoving him forward. Noah thinks his grandfather looks just like he imagined. Weak, feeble, sitting in a bed all alone. Whatever, Noah feels no sympathy.

"Hi," Noah says politely.

"Well howdy. What happened to your hands? Your dad beat the crap out of you for knocking a girl up?" Jonah asks jokingly, kind of. Puck's eyes flare with anger. He's never laid a hand on his kids, but he's not surprised his father would suggest it. That's just the kind of man Jonah Puckerman is.

"No sir. I set a barn on fire," Noah replies without flinching. Santana feels a surge of pride. Of course she does. Well not because he set a barn on fire, but because her son is unflustered enough to let nothing catch him off guard.

"Well, I'll be damned," Jonah says with a laugh before going into a coughing fit.

"Okay, I think it's time for you to go now, Mr. Puckerman. Your father needs to be taken into the OR," the nurse says.

"All right. Well, it was nice seeing you dad. Bye," Puck says before getting up.

"Absolutely, son. I'm proud of you. You gotta a good thing going for you. I know you won't fuck it up," Jonah responds before Puck, Santana, and Noah leave the room. They do not embrace, cry, or exchange "I love yous" like any other family would in this situation, because well, they're not family. They just leave.

Two days later, the Puck gets a call at home. Jonah Puckerman didn't make it. The nurse tells them the doctors did everything they could, but he just wasn't strong enough to take it. Puck isn't surprised at the news, but is surprised that he doesn't care.

He feels nothing. Not sad. Not happy. Only nothing. But for some reason, it feels right.

Again, he barely knew the guy.

How fucking anticlimactic.

**Lemme know what you think. Review please?**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi! Sorry it took so long, but school is hard-core.**

**Mackenzie: Thanks for your review, I tried to put a little bit of early Puck/Santana in here, but this is a story based on family. Don't worry I have plenty of other ideas for the oneshots I'll be doing once this story is done.**

**Vienna and Isilady: Sit tight and look for your suggestions soon, I've got it all planned out :) Thanks for reviewing, as always.**

Like most married women, Santana is not a big fan of her mother-in-law. Actually, she wasn't too hot about Jane Puckerman even when she and Puck were just dating- if that's what you'd call their high school "relationship." And also like most women who aren't big fans of their mothers-in-law, she has a husband who is crazy about his mother.

Noah Puckerman is a mama's boy. No doubt about it. Even though he's on the edge of turning forty, he calls his mother every week to let her know the news and to see if everything is okay. In return, Jane Puckerman feels the need to know everything that's going on in the Puckerman household and she's been known to randomly drop in and critique everything. Needless to say, this makes for a very unhappy Santana Puckerman.

It's not that Santana hates her mother-in-law. She doesn't even dislike her. They get along. Their relationship can be defined somewhere between amiable and hostile, but neither are completely accurate. She just doesn't like everyone knowing her business. She can't being to imagine what it would be like if she were a "celebrity" like Sue Sylvester. She also doesn't like people encroaching on her home life, telling her everything she's doing wrong and nothing she's doing right. And maybe, just maybe, she doesn't like having to share her man with his mother.

Santana's got a hunch (and it's been proven that her hunches are usually right, ahem, teenage pregnancy) that Jane Puckerman disapproves of her. Sure, she likes her enough and that Jane's never personally attacked her on anything, but Santana has seen the small flicker of disappointment in Jane's eyes more than once.

_Exhibit A:_

_It was an excruciating Saturday night for Santana. Three year old Kelsey was crying her eyes out because the DVD player was broken and she couldn't watch her favorite My Little Pony DVD. Baby Noah was also crying his eyes out, but for no apparent reason. Santana had tried everything. She fed up, burped him, rocked him, sang to him, but nothing worked. Santana? She wanted to pull her own hair out and just cry at her own misery._

_Was this what motherhood was like? Because if she had known it was going to be like this, she would have gotten her tubes tied in a heartbeat. It would be better if she just didn't suck so much at it. It seems like all her kids do is cry, cry, and cry. It doesn't help that Puck is gone all time on his stupid business trips, and she has no one to help her._

_Even with the constant presence of her kids, Santana has never felt so alone. How was it even possible for her to be so bad at something? Shouldn't a mother just know what's wrong with her kids? She really was at a standstill. She begrudgingly decided to call her mother-in-law, the person who would probably know._

_"Hello?" Jane Puckerman answered._

_"Yeah, Jane? It's Santana," Santana replied. She'd always called her Jane. She couldn't imagine saying the words "mom" to this unknown, foreign woman._

_"Santana! What's up?" Jane said, feeling particularly perky._

_"The kids are crying, and I don't know what to do, and oh god, I'm so bad at this, and I wish Puck was here…" Santana rambled. The exhaustion in her voice was apparent. She couldn't take it anymore._

_"I'm coming over right now," Jane said with an urgency in her voice. But she couldn't hide it. Santana could hear from 18 miles away on her telephone. The sound of disappointment, as clear as day._

_Exhibit B:_

_Santana was lonely, what else was new? But this time, it was because of her own doing. She sat in the middle of her living room, shrouded by a subtle darkness, absentmindedly fingering the rim of her empty wine glass. The television was flickering in the near distance, illuminating her emotionless expression. The divorce papers sat in front of her. She'd been sitting there for the better part of two hours now, wondering for the millionth time if it was the right thing to do._

_Puck had taken the kids out again. He hadn't officially moved out, but he might as well have. She couldn't feel his presence anymore. Sure his toothbrush was next to hers by the sink and his socks were littered across the house, as usual, but he just wasn't there. She missed him. How was she going to survive everyday without him?_

_But she convinced herself this was a good thing. This was her not wasting any more time on this relationship, which she should have known would never work. She was a cold bitch with no emotions, and he was just as bad. The doorbell broke her out of her innocent daydream._

_To her surprise it was Jane Puckerman at the door. What the fuck was she doing here?_

_"Santana. You look like hell," Jane said. It was the truth. Mascara was running down her cheeks from her endless crying and her hair was a birds nest of tangles._

_"Hi Jane. What are you doing here?" Santana said in genuine surprise, wiping the remnants of her makeup off her face in an attempt to hide her present disheveled state. Jane walked across the room and took a seat on the couch, the seat cushions sagging at the sudden addition of weight. Santana followed._

_"You're making a mistake, Santana. Please don't do this. My Noah needs you. He might not show it very well, but he does. Every time he calls, he tells me something adorable you did the other day; he loves you," Jane said pleadingly. Oh my god. Puck sent his mother to do his dirty work?_

_"Did Puck ask you to come? I'm not going to change my mind. I'm going through with it," Santana answered bluntly._

_"No, I came on my own. Please, he's a good man. He loves you," Jane begged._

_"I know," Santana just said. Like hell she didn't. She knew her soon to be ex-husband like she knew the back of her hand._

_"Then why are you doing this?" Jane asked a final time._

_"I have to," Santana replied before she turned her head away to hide the tears that had started. That's all there was to it, really. She had to, or else she would drown in her pit of misery and loneliness. She just needed him to be there, to tell her he loved her, to show his appreciation. And he failed._

_Santana watched as Jane got up and slowly let herself out. There it was again. Dissapointment. Giving her a cold slap against the cheek._

_Exhibit C:_

_"Santana, baby, stop throwing stuff at me. It's not going to happen again. I promise, I just let it slip," Puck said as he put his hands up in front of his to shield the throw cushion that came his way._

_"Let what slip? Tell me what you said that happened to cause your mother to come over here with a bucket and criticize me about everything I do in this house! Nothing I ever do will be good enough for her!" Santana shrieked. She was sick and tired of Jane Puckerman being everywhere. She was a like a pest. An infestation in her life. When they got back together, Puck promised that Jane would be there less. It would be just the two of them in the relationship._

_"Nothing important!" Puck said._

_"Yeah? Explain to me why she said to me today, 'A lady needs to be a chef in the kitchen, a maid in the living room, and a whore in the bedroom. Noah tells me you only have one of those down_.' _You discuss our sex life with your mother? What else do you tell her? Maybe I should just run down the hall and tell our 11 year old daughter that Daddy likes to be on top! Or maybe I'll just let it slip to the mailman tomorrow morning where my G-spot is!" Santana screeched. She was furious._

_"Don't be ridiculous! All I told her was that your matzo ball soup wasn't as good as her's!" Puck said in defense. He gave her a dignified glare before walking out the door._

_Oh. See? Her mother-in-law's disapproval in her followed her everywhere, even into her bedroom._

So yes, it's safe to say Santana will never love Jane Puckerman the way her husband does. Jane has stopped meddling, for the most part. The last time she was here, which was an impressive 6 months ago, she only mentioned the dust on the banister once. But now she's coming next week, for the reading of Jonah Puckerman's will.

But Santana loves to impress. She's never been one to back down. So when Jane Puckerman walks in that door Wednesday, the house will be so immaculate, the kids will be so well-behaved, the casserole on the table will be so delicious that Jane Puckerman will just maybe _have_ to admit that yes, her knucklehead of a son married the right woman.

Santana's looking forward to it already. She starts to grin just at the thought of proving Jane wrong.

"What's up with you? You're in a good mood…" Puck observes before snaking his arms around her slim waist.

"Nothing. Just excited for your mom to come," Santana responds before moving her pot of sunflowers a couple inches to the left. Can't have wilted flowers in the house for her majesty Jane Puckerman's visit.

"You have no idea how hot that sounded," Puck says before spinning her around and smashing his lips onto hers.

Santana gives in for a split-second before pushing her husband off. Puck has that look of smug disbelief on his face.

"I have to go hide all the incriminating stuff in this house," Santana says with a smirk.

**So leave me a review, PLEASEEEEEEEEEE? And you know what I love? Suggestions! They keep me out of writer's block and I seriously use them. Seriously. REVIEWWWWW!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hi guys! Thanks for the reviews, they really keep me motivated and going. And especially, thanks for all the suggestions. They keep me out of writer's block. And if I cant incorporate them all into this story (which I will try to), I'll put them into my other stories I'm planning.**

When she was younger, Kelsey Puckerman had beautiful blonde hair. It was the kind of wispy blonde hair you'd might imagine on fairies or calendars depicting newborn babies. In fact, her hair was so strikingly blonde that old ladies in the supermarket line often stopped to do a double-take. But as Kelsey grew older, her hair darkened into a deep sepia color that looked a little bit more in tune with her perpetually tan skin. By the time she was eight, she looked normal.

Like her brother Noah Jr, she too had an epiphany. This time at horseback riding camp. Kelsey Puckerman was sick of her life. It was too boring. Her hair? Too typical. Her grades? Too average. Her parents' lame jokes? Too old. She'd be lying if she said she didn't get a little bit excited when she found out she was pregnant. A change, finally! Well, she obviously couldn't keep a baby, for God's sake. But it was still exciting while it lasted. Kelsey figures disappointment is just a tax on adventure. A consolation prize. Just something you have to check off the list to get to the good stuff.

So she decided to reinvent herself at camp. Yes, it was high time for a reinvention. When she walks in the front door on a lazy Wednesday, she expects nothing to have changed within her drab family. Boy, is she wrong.

"You look like a skank," her brother says. Wow, what a great welcome home. Thanks, bro. And are those bandages on his arm?

"We're never letting you go to camp again," her mom says, mouth agape.

"Chill out mom, it's just hair…" Kelsey reasons. I mean, it is. It'll grow back. It's not like she bleached the shit out of her hair to the point where it'll never grow back again. She just dyed it "Dumb Blonde"…and slashed it with a razor multiple times…by herself. Okay, she's starting to see how this may have been a bad idea…

"Just hair? It looks like you did it yourself!" her mother shrieks.

"Well I did…" Kelsey replies. Her brother snickers in the corner, eyes flickering between SportsCenter and her mother's growing weary expression.

"I think it looks cute, Kels. Maybe just a little touch-up or something," her dad offers with a smile.

"Okay. You know what? I don't have time to take you to get it fixed, so can I just give you a hundred bucks and you get it done by tonight? Actually, just take it out of my wallet. And Noah, get your ass off the couch and clean your room!" her mom rambles. What the fuck is going on? It's evident that her mother is insanely stressed, and her mother never loses her cool.

"Yeah sure…what's going on?" Kelsey asks. Seriously. Something is wrong. Her mom throws her hands in the air in frustration and walks out of the living room. Her dad shoots her an apologetic look before following her mom into the kitchen like a lap dog. As usual. Kelsey raises her eyebrows at her brother. She still has no idea what's happening…

"Grandma's coming," Noah says before getting up. Well, he has a room to clean. Wouldn't want a spec of dust in the house for Her Majesty Jane Puckerman's visit.

Oh. That explains things.

"Santana. Tell me what I can do to help. The house is spotless already," Puck says to his evidently frazzled wife, taking his wife's hands in his own.

"Nothing. You can vacuum the coat closet. You can wash the wine glasses. You can make your mother love me, so I don't have to do this every time she comes over," Santana says, resting her forehead on her husband's chest. Santana is exhausted; she's been up since the crack of dawn cleaning.

"She does love you. She loves you because I love you," Puck says reassuringly, stroking his wife's arm.

"If she does, why does she point out that I'm a horrible housewife each time she's here? It's like she thinks I'm not good enough for you because I'm not Jewish and bad at cooking and have kids that go and ruin their gorgeous hair…" Santana's rambling again. At least that's what Puck thinks she's saying. He can't really tell because her face is muffled into his chest.

"That's just who she is. She can't change. It's fine. It's our home, not hers, and I think it's fine. It's more than fine. Now can I stop cleaning the windows?" Puck asks with an innocent look on his face.

"Fine. But one more thing," Santana says as she steps away. This is imperative.

"What?" Puck says exasperatedly. He's expecting her to ask him for the fifth time if the potted plant looks better by the window or on the desk.

"Can you see my nipples through this shirt?" Santana asks in all seriousness. She can't have her mother-in-law thinking she walks around looking like one of those skanky MILF types.

Puck just chuckles before studying his wife's chest with the intensity of a scholar, something he's done millions of times.

"Only if you're looking for them," Puck answers. He might be, but he doubts his mother will.

"Argh. Not good enough," Santana screams before trudging up the stairs to change.

It's late in the evening and Jane Puckerman has finally made it all the way across three towns to her favorite son's home. She hasn't been here in six months, which is shocking considering how close she lives. Her baby boy used to tell her everything and now she's been made an outcast in his very home! It's the work of her daughter-in-law no doubt.

When her son first brought her home when they were in college, she didn't like her so much, She wasn't Jewish, she was outspoken, too flashy. But over time, Santana grew on Jane. She's attractive, smart, and and willing to learn. She gets the job done. She knows for a fact that her son is lucky to have a wife like her. She loves Noah, but she half expected him to never settle down and stay a bachelor forever. What Jane doesn't like about Santana is how territorial she gets. Yes, she understands that her son is married now and all that jazz, but he can still make time for his dear old mother. Who does he think raised him anyways!

"Santana," Jane simply says as the door to her son's house opens, revealing her daughter-in-law, looking trendy as always in a pink scoop neck sweater.

"Jane! Lovely to see you again," Santana says a little too perkily. Then an awkward silence. Neither of them speak.

"We're family. Family hugs. Always," Jane declares before enveloping her stick figure of a daughter-in-law in a bone-crushing hug. Well, bone-crushing for Santana. More like fat-crushing for the plump Jane.

"Of course. Puck's inside, the kids too," Santana says after she recovers from the initial shock. That horrible nickname again. Jane doesn't understand why her son would go by Puck when he has a wonderful name like Noah. A name she hand-picked.

"Yes. Did you redecorate Santana? The living room looks brighter," Jane says, observing the house. She nods before making an animal-like clicking sound that Santana can only assume is a sign of approval. Everything is pristine. Good.

"Yes. We got rid of some of the clutter and repainted the walls. I'm glad you like it," Santana says.

"Grandma!" Kelsey says from her spot on the sofa.

"Kelsey, baby. What did you do to your gorgeous hair? Why on earth would you get rid of those beautiful curls you have like your mother's?" Jane exclaims before hugging her only granddaughter. Jane's a hugger. Obviously.

"Just wanted a change," Kelsey says nervously, pretending to thumb through her mother's copy of Vanity Fair. Her mom made her hide all the trashy gossip rags under the couch.

"Ma. It's been too long," Puck says as he emerges from the kitchen.

"Noah, darling. Well it's your fault! Your son of a bitch father had to die before you invited me over! Might have been the best thing he ever did for me!" Jane says before unleashing a throaty laugh. Santana can't hold it in. She laughs too. If it's one thing she has in common with Jane, it's their mutual hate for the late Jonah Puckerman. Is that bad? To be laughing about a dead person? Whatever.

"Santana's with me on this right, honey? Do you have any wine? Let's toast! Cheers to all of us being a couple thousand dollars richer!" Jane yells again. Kelsey rolls her eyes. The whole dead grandfather, potential inheritance thing was exciting for like two seconds. Then she realized her grandfather was too much of a deadbeat to leave them anything cool, so now she's over it again.

"Of course! What kind of household do you think this is?" Santana says jokingly…well kind of.

Jane gives her daughter-in-law a smile before pinching her son's cheek.

Santana genuinely smiles for the first time tonight. Maybe this won't be so bad. Pretending to make small talk with her mother-in-law might even turn into a real conversation. Then she won't have to pretend to be nice to her anymore. It'll be good practice for that horrible, dreaded high school reunion next week.

**Review! Rate it even if you hate it!**

**Also, check out my new one-shot, which I'll be uploading by the end of this weekend!**


	10. Chapter 10

**I'm back! Sorry it took so long. School has been kicking my butt. But I figured I owed it to you guys to finish this story. So here it is, the last installment of this story. What a ride. I hope you guys enjoy this, seriously.**

She's locked herself inside the bathroom, and he's outside begging for her to let him in. It's a scene that is all too familiar to both of them.

"Baby, just let me in. Tell me what's wrong," Noah "Puck" Puckerman says, rapping his knuckles on the door for the tenth time. His wife, Santana, hasn't had one of her mental "breakdowns" for a while. Just when he thought everything was going fine, Santana's got another insecurity popping up out of nowhere. He really shouldn't be surprised.

"No," Santana says with a supressed sniffle. Jesus, why won't he just go away? Because it's his job to, that's why. That's what husbands do. They won't leave you alone until you feel better.

"Come on, it can't be as bad as you think. You're not pregnant again, are you?" Puck whines. He's getting desperate.

"No, you dumbass! And that's the fucking problem!" she shrieks before swinging open the door.

"Wait, you want another kid? You realize you're like-Oh hello..." Puck says before trailing off. Good thing too, barely missed the "middle aged woman, don't bring up her age" bullet. Santana is practically naked, standing in the doorway of their bathroom.

Santana shrieks before yanking him inside by the collar of his shirt. slamming the door in the process.

"What, you want to do it right here? I thought you were tired from humping the floor last night with that stupid exercise video," Puck says with a smirk.

"First of all, don't mention my age to me, it'll make me scream. Secondly, I did not drag you into our bathroom for sex! And finally, it isn't a stupid exercise video, it's Cardio Fitness and it keeps my thighs from turning into goo," Santana explains exasperatedly.

"Whatever, who cares about your thighs, it's the first thing I push away anyways..." Puck says picking up his wife, getting ready to plop her down on the edge of the sink.

"Stop it!" Santana shrieks, kicking herself free.

"What's wrong?" Puck asks.

"What's wrong is that I am old! And that there is a wrinkle on my temple! And that boobs have started to sag. And that I'm so old that I'm not having a pregnancy scare even though we haven't exactly been careful lately. And worst of all, we have to go to that stupid high school reunion today and I'm gonna be the wrinkliest, washed-out looking one there!" Santana sighs.

"Santana, it's fine. You look amazing. Besides, who is gonna show up besides us anyway?" Puck answers. He doesn't think this aging thing is an issue. Santana's a "hall of fame MILF," as his high-school-counterpart would say. Puck knows the real reason Santana is freaking out is because she doesn't want to look bad next to everyone else at the reunion, and that scares the living crap out of her.

"You're right. I look hot. But seriously, everyone there is going to be all famous and exciting and we're just Lima Losers. I don't want them to know how pathetic we are, especially since we used to be so...so...important," Santana says, slowly putting her legs into her new pair of Lucky jeans.

"Baby, we have everything we need. We're total studs. I bet Rachel Berry's boobs have already sagged way more than yours," Puck offers. Yeah...not really helping.

"Yeah. We could have it worse...I could be morbidly obese and you could be in a wheelchair," Santana says before shoving her husband out of the bathroom.

The place is pathetic. That much Santana knows. The grocery store brand tea cookies on the table near the door? Pathetic. The red and white streamers haphazardly draped over the bleachers? Pathetic. Even the banner that has "Welcome back, Class of 2012" has a pathetic asymmetrical dip in it, so that "back" and "Class" have been smooshed into one "ass." Puck was right. At least they weren't as pathetic as the losers that organized this shebang.

"Oh god, it's that one gay kid. Quick, think of a good excuse for leaving," Santana hisses into her husband's ear. Why the fuck is she even here? Why did she let her husband drag her here? If there's one thing Santana hates, it's being judged. And she'd bet her life savings that right now, Kurt Hummel is sizing up the cut of her jeans, and the size of the diamond on her left hand. Puck gives Santana's hand a reassuring squeeze before walking off to talk to some other guy. Great. Thanks for leaving. First Brittany says she can't make it because her cat swallowed a pickle, and now her husband has ditched her.

"Santana, how are you? Long time no see, you look great for your age," Kurt says in a cutesy voice. Santana hates that "compliment." It's really not a compliment. It's actually quite insulting. Why can't she just be "great" at any age.

"Yes, well not all of us have the time to moisturize every night," Santana says cooly. Santana Lopez Puckerman never loses her cool.

"Oh god, kids, right? I don't know what I was thinking when I signed those damn adoption papers!" Kurt jokes, playfully putting his hand on her forearm. He's got to hand it to Santana, she seems to really have turned her life around. Well, it's not too surprising to Kurt. She and Puck were meant for each other.

"Oh, how many kids do you have?" Santana asks with real interest. She can't wait to brag about her own kids.

"Just one, my boyfriend and I just adopted a baby girl about a year ago. Helvetica. We named her after our favorite font. She's half Filipino, half Israeli. You know how mixed race babies are the best, darling," Kurt chuckles. Santana raises a skeptical eyebrow.

"Yes. Yes, I do," Santana says with a smile. She glances over to her husband, who is deeply engaged in a conversation with his ex-best friend, Finn Hudson. God, she can't believe she ever took that poor kid's virginity. She was such an idiot in high school.

"Wow, man. Sounds like you've got a great life going. To be honest, I didn't really expect you to be the kind of person to settle down and stuff," Finn says.

"It was hard, I gotta admit. But so worth it, I mean I got a hot wife and some awesome kids. I don't even mind being a Lima Loser. What more do I need, you know?" Puck says, without thinking. Now surely Finn Hudson must think he's turned into one of those new-aged hippies that only think about enlightenment and self-worth.

"No, I totally get it," Finn says wistfully. He's got a brand new Maserati sitting in the parking lot, a vintage Armani suit on, and a dozen girls' phone numbers stored in his top-model iPhone. Still, he wishes he had someone to come home to, someone who would wait up for him every night. Maybe then he would stop flying across the country every week for a new business trip. He's got more air miles than Kim Kardashian and knows every flight attendant on Virgin Airlines by name, but Finn Hudson has never been more lonely in his entire life. But maybe he's not the only lonely one...

"Santana. How are you and Puck? And Noah and Chelsea?" Quinn Fabray says cautiously to her ex-frenemy. She doesn't have very many friends, and she's not going to take any chances by pushing away her _ex_-friends.

"It's Kelsey. We're fine, how are you? And Peter? I hear he's running for Senate," Santana asks pitifully. She hasn't talked to Quinn since the whole Beth wedding thing. Back then, Quinn seemed miserable and Santana was on top of the moon. Santana's not an idiot, she can tell Quinn still isn't happy.

"We've been better," Quinn admits. Her hair looks dead from being bleached too blonde, and there are bags under her lackluster eyes.

"Yeah? Wanna talk about it?" Santana offers. Over the years, she's gotten over her irrational hatred of Quinn Fabray. Hating on Quinn Fabray is like kicking a puppy with a broken leg. Quinn's life is pathetic enough compared to Santana's idyllic suburban one, and Santana doesn't feel the need to rub it in. She knows she's won, and now she just pities Quinn Fabray.

"He's cheating on me. With his campaign manager. He says he needs to put in extra hours to get the minority vote, but I'm not stupid. I might be just a dumb housewife who sits at home all day cleaning, but I'm not blind. God, I'm just like my mother," Quinn says. Santana doesn't know what to say. She's shocked that the All-American girl, of all people, would have a cheating husband. But she's more shocked that Quinn would just confide in her like this, after all these years.

"Why don't you leave him? You deserve better than that, I've been there," Santana says.

"But I don't want to mess up the election for him...wait, what? You can't possibly know what I feel like. You've got two great kids, and a husband who actually spends time with you instead of telling you to do his dry cleaning. I sit in an empty mansion all day, and you've been so blessed," Quinn says.

"Look Quinn, you don't know this, but Puck and I got divorced once. He was working too much too, and he didn't really want to talk to me about anything. He closed himself off and shut me out, because he panicked. He panicked about being a husband, and being a dad, and being there. And I felt so lonely, so overwhelmed, at home with two toddlers. I had no idea what the hell I was doing and I panicked, so I brought home divorce papers, even though I loved him so much. We were divorced for almost two years," Santana says. She doesn't know why she's telling Quinn this. She guesses she owes Quinn something, after Quinn just bared her soul.

"What happened? I mean, you guys are obviously happy," Quinn asks, a glimmer of jealously escaping from drooping eyes.

"We got back together, and we just picked up where we left off. It was like nothing had changed, he was like his old self again. We did family things at the beach, and he would randomly take me out to dinner and buy me flowers," Santana rattles, smiling at the memory, "All he needed was that wake-up call. Getting divorced was a good thing, but getting back together was even better. I know that we wouldn't be as great as we are now if I hadn't taken a stand. I might be blessed, but it wasn't at no expense. You have to work for happiness. You need to do what's best for you, Quinn. Confront him. Maybe he'll change for you, and if he won't, he's not worth it."

"Thanks. I will. It was nice talking to you, Santana. Maybe you could come over for coffee sometime? I have a killer espresso machine..." Quinn asks.

"Yeah, I'd like that," Santana smiles as her husband slides up next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

"Excuse me Quinn, but I miss my wife," Puck says. God, he's so whippped. Santana shoots Quinn an apologetic look. Quinn just smiles, remembering when she and her own husband used to be like that.

"Okay okay, call me," Santana says before sauntering off with her husband.

"You were right, we don't have it that bad. We might just be Lima Losers, but at least we're happy," Santana says.

"Yeah, at least we're happy," Puck agrees, leaning down to give his wife a soft kiss.

**I want to thank each and everyone of you who read and reviewed this story. I really appreciated the reviews, and they kept me motivated. I never once had writer's block with all the amazing suggestions you guys gave me. I really tried to listen to what you all had to say and use it in the story. **

**So one last time, please review? You too, silent readers! I know who you are! haha...**

**And be on the lookout for some new oneshots!**


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